What was Once Eternity
by lLegendsl
Summary: Elscud did not know how long he had stayed in the dimensional tear, a final curse by the Queen of Darkness. He could not see, feel, taste, or touch, and the sound of his fellow Trackers soon left him. The only thing keeping him going through this seemingly eternal prison was his family, and even that might not be enough eventually. Completed unless a good continuation comes up.
1. Chapter 1: Stays Eternal

_Let's just say I was in the middle of writing and then this little idea hit me like a truck (not literally, but the mental effect was the same.) Planned on making this a oneshot or something, but a happy conclusion's in my mind for the moment, so it might be two chapters. I'm also terrible at writing stuff like this... does this even qualify as angst? -shrugs- Anyway, I hope you enjoy!_

* * *

**Stays Eternal**

* * *

How long has it been since he was thrown in the dark?

How long has it been since he had last touched the ground, smelled the scent of forest and fresh air, or tasted food or water?

How long has it been since he stopped hearing his comrades' screams, giggles, and crying of insanity?

The red-haired man no longer had an answer. He tried to estimate how long he floated in this dimensional rift, this accursed prison that the Queen of Darkness threw him and his fellow Trackers into, but he lost track at around... five months? A year? It was so hard to tell; food, drink, and sleep never felt needed, as if time stood still for his body, but not his mind. All that was left were his memories, precious, fading memories of what he once knew and fought for.

_My name is Elscud. I am a Kanavan Tracker and member of the Ruby Knights. I fight for my daughter, Elesis._

He remembered the battle with Kaze'aze. They had finally found her lair, located on the northernmost tip of the Ellian continent. Her Anmon soldiers were dispatched with relative ease; of the twenty-seven elite soldiers that were in the unit, only two had died, one by the hammer of a Guard, the other impaled by the long reach of the Scouts.

Scouring her castle was a far more terrible task. Every hallway had been rigged with deadly traps of a twisted mind: neurotoxins that did not affect Anmon, but caused muscle paralysis and slow suffocation in humans, enchanted blades that shot from the walls, ceiling, and floor, stone carvings that shot bolts of lightning and waves of fire, and corrupted monsters that hunted in the labyrinth of paths in the fortress. By the time they managed to finally find the demon witch, ten of them remained, Elscud included.

What happened next... Elscud still shuddered at the memory as the woman doubled over, bulging in discolored, misshapen forms until she displayed her true form, a massive canine demon of blue, white, red, and teal, armed with horns, shoulder and leg spikes, terrible claws, and two tail-like appendages from her back. Seeing the terror in his comrades' eyes, he unsheathed his sword and confidently yelled, "Fear not, Trackers! We will succeed in slaughtering this beast! Think of those who died to get us this far! Think of those you still wish to protect! That will bring the resolve you need," even if he was just as terrified.

The clash was fierce, yet slowly, it seemed as if they were capable of subduing the demon; her movements slowed due to her wounds, she was no longer as ferocious when attacking, and not a single man had died, although they were all exhausted. "Press on!" Elscud shouted, leading what would hopefully be the final charge to victory.

Kaze'aze unexpectedly leaped over the troupe, and roared as an immense surge of dark magic surrounded her, repairing her cuts and renewing her strength. **"Ahhh..." **Kaze'aze sighed in comfort and nonchalantly said, **"It's been fun, but humanity will never defeat me. How could you, when it costs half of your most skilled merely to enter my domain? By the time you can even think of attacking me again, my army will be large enough to destroy Bermesiah twenty times over!" **She laughed, a thunderous barking sound in her true form. The Trackers slowly backed away in terror, knowing this battle was lost. **"Ah, killing you will be too fast, too merciful. I will make you suffer. I will drive you mad. I will make you wade in despair for so long, you will return as nothing but a shell of your former self, if at all!"**

With a howl, Kaze'aze infused her claws with demonic energy. She swung in front of her, tearing a massive rip in the middle of the air. It slowly started sucking everything in, increasing in power. The demon screeched in peals of laughter as she returned to her human form, watching with sadistic glee as the Trackers desperately tried to find anything to grab onto before being pulled into the void. "Take comfort in the fact that your families will die, not suffer for eternity like you will," she crooned. "And you..." Kaze'aze looked at Elscud in contempt, who impaled his sword on the ground in a final attempt to survive the spell. "I hope you're the last to die, just so you can hear the friends and comrades you commanded silence themselves. I hope you die alone, regretting the fact that you dared oppose and wound me!" She smashed her staff on the ground, and the floor surrounding the sword crumbled, hurling Elscud and his weapon towards the vortex. As he flew in, the image of the cackling witch slowly twinkled out of existence, and darkness enveloped him.

Freefall was his first sensation. In vain, he scoured the darkness, but Elscud could not even see his hand even if he held it up to his face. After an hour of falling, Elscud drew the conclusion that this place was either bottomless or it was merely a feeling. Whatever it was, this was no longer Aernas; no place there could do something like this. It was as if he partly existed; he could not feel or touch himself aside from his sword, now securely in its sheath, he saw nothing, there was no smell, he could not even taste his mouth, and there were no worldly sensations: hunger, thirst, desire to sleep, or the need to relieve himself had all vanished. The experience was so alien, so _inhuman_, Elscud retreated to his memories of the world he belonged in, the world that he knew.

Hearing was the only sense granted to him. Somewhere, he heard the shouts of surprise and fear of his comrades. He tried to get bearings on where they were, but their voices emanated from various directions, as if they were teleported here and there. He heard them call out to each other. He heard them scream out into the darkness. As time went on, he heard them slowly descend into madness, the alien experience seemingly stripping them of their humanity. Their once rational calls and speech twisted into unceasing laughter and giggling, crying, grunts and yells and screams, or a sickening squelch as one by one, each Tracker killed themselves with their trusted blades in insane despair. Only when all was silent did Elscud realize he was alone.

Elscud grimaced at the thought. True to Kaze'aze's curse, he was the last to survive, and he did not believe he could hold out much longer. Even now, he felt despair and insanity tugging at the edges of his mind, inviting him to a sweet release of unrestrained emotion. He frantically retreated back to his memories, like fishing in a clear freshwater stream with his wife Penelope, patrol duty in Kanavan, and training his daughter in the ways of the sword. If only he could live in his memories, maybe his predicament would not be so terrible. However, memories fade over time, and Elscud feared that soon, there might be no world for him to hide in.

The sword on his belt beckoned, promising an end to this ghostly existence. For a moment, it was so tantalizing, Elscud could not resist. He drew it out of its sheath. In this world, only his sword existed with him now , the others' likely still impaled in or next to their bodies. It was his ticket to the afterlife, an afterlife where he would not suffer. Tracing the edge with his fingers, Elscud then turned it around, blade pointed towards him and hilt in both hands. He held the position for a while and prepared to bring it down on his chest.

Thoughts of his family flooded his mind.

In disgust, he tossed the sword as far as he could, horrified at what he was about to do. He would not give up, else his teaching to Elesis of perseverance would become nothing but the words of a hypocrite. He still had something to fight for, and he would continue fighting for it. There would be an end to this ordeal, he believed. He had to believe it.

_My name is Elscud. I am a Kanavan Tracker and member of the Ruby Knights. I fight for my daughter, Elesis. I fight for Penelope and Elsword and those who gave and will give their lives to stopping the Queen of Darkness._

In the darkest corner of his mind, he wished he had not thrown his sword away.

* * *

_My name is... Elscud. I... I was a knight. I fight... for Elesis._

Elscud felt so confused. He no longer remembered what he looked like. He no longer remembered what it was like to feel himself, on account of this world, or his weight, he was falling for so long. He could barely recall anything; it was as if this darkness was sucking his past out of him. In some attempt to remember _something _about himself, he called to the darkness. Nothing responded, as usual, but he could hear his voice, and that was a relief. He called over and over, taking in the empty joy of listening to someone, something, in this endless world of nothing.

___How long have I been here?_

He lived in his memories for so long it bored him. Besides, what little scraps remained were so puzzling to him. _What was I doing as a knight? Is Elscud really my name? I remember some other names... Kanavan... and Elsword... Where is my home? Here? Where is my family? Did I have a family? And who or what is this Elesis I say I'm fighting for?_ Questions of his past was how he entertained himself now.

_How much longer will I stay here?_

Elscud imagined various scenarios of what his life likely was. In one, he was a traveling merchant who sold weapons and armor of the finest make to passersby. In another, he was a champion of his hometown, whatever it was, and was adored by the people. There was one where he imagined himself to be a king, but he quickly brushed that idea aside. Funny how his thoughts were so centered around royalty and soldiers. Perhaps he _was _a person of importance? He dismissed that thought as well. Likely, he was merely a dreamer, a guard who was a wannabe knight in shining armor.

_Will this solitude ever end?_

Thoughts like this could only entertain him for so long, and time stretched forever in this place. Surrendering to despair eventually, he screamed and screamed into the black abyss and freefall, desperately wishing someone to end his life or this meager existence, whichever came first, though both seemed to have stretched for eternity. It had been so long, so dull, so monotonous, nothing could be worth fighting for this amount of suffering. Perhaps for this Elesis or his supposed family, but he now doubted them as a hallucination or his imagination.

_Will I be here forever?_

As he desperately tried to find new memories of Elesis and his family to confirm his sanity, Elscud fervently wished, with all his preserved heart and fracturing mind, that he had not thrown away his sword so long ago.


	2. Chapter 2: Can Eventually End

_Well, I think that's the end of this short story. If you have an idea to make this go on, PM me and I can give it a shot. Personally, I think this is a nice way to end it, but my opinions ain't everyone's. Enjoy~_

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**Can Eventually End**

* * *

So little held meaning, and far less held joy. The man continued his endless existence with almost nothing to guide him. Only one thing still held him down, and it was more of a habit than anything.

_Elesis... Elesis..._

He had chanted this word since the time he had given up. What it was, the man was uncertain. He had forsaken his titles, his memories, his name, and his identity to the unceasing abyss. Madness had bored him so long ago; he was now merely... tired was not the right word; he never felt tired. Jaded? Spent?

With nowhere to go and nothing to do, he simply _was_, floating forever in the darkness, thinking this one word as if it were his lifeline, his duty. Sometimes, he wondered - if he stopped thinking, would he disappear? Or would he continue to be? The concept of giving up was strangely abhorring, but he felt worn and bored and certain that this miserable existence would never end. He had done everything; he had laughed and cried and screamed and whispered nonsense, but no one came. No one returned his calls.

No one was here but him.

Finishing his chant, the man decided to go back to sleep. He did not need to, but he was just tired of thinking and the only place where he did not need to think was when he was in slumber. Also, dreams were the rare treat in such a world. Many times, he had dreamt of a red-haired girl doing various things, like practicing swordsmanship, walking in a forest, and chatting with friends. He never knew who she was, nor could he ask, but watching her made him feel a joy and pride unlike any he ever knew. Sadly, the dreams were so fleeting, so brief, but he could remind himself that there _is _something else besides this hell, something worth living for.

It did nothing to solve his predicament.

He continued living - no, existing - uncaring of the future. He had given up trying to break free of his prison so long ago.

* * *

Young Harpe Erudon was practicing his swordsmanship on a field of wooden dummies when he felt a sensation, sending a shiver up his spine. He knew this feeling; it was magic, similar to the feeling when his mom and dad used it during their sparring. However, this felt dark, ancient, and incredibly powerful and scary, unlike anything he experienced before. Sneaking away from his busy trainer and taking with him his wooden sword, he trekked into the nearby forest in search of the disturbance.

The red-haired child walked in the general direction, curiously poking his nose here and there to find anything unusual. He found nothing but the usual trees and shrubs, chattering squirrels and songbirds, and the shadowy outlines of deer as they cautiously avoided the human. Harpe was about to give up when he noticed a clearing; in the middle of it was a sitting man, looking at the world and himself with awe, like he had never seen it before. Cautiously, the six-year old tiptoed his way to a giant bush near the man, trying to get a better view while staying out of sight.

From what Harpe could see, the adult was unnaturally pale, like he had lived in a dark place for his entire life. He could hear him rambling in a broken voice, pupils dilated as he frantically looked around, seemingly drinking in the entire world before it would disappear from his vision. Most of the snippets of speech that he caught made little to no sense, but he constantly heard a name that meant the world to him.

Elesis.

_Maybe he's a friend to Mother, _Harpe thought. He made his presence known by slowly creeping out from behind the bush and looked at the man with curiosity. He looked so familiar, he realized, but he did not know why. "Excuse me, mister," Harpe gently spoke. "Are you looking for someone?"

The man visibly flinched at the sound of Harpe's voice, which made him tilt his head in confusion. His voice was not scary; on the contrary, Mother and Father constantly teased him for his soft voice, especially when he was angry.

"Where... where am I?" The voice of the man was cracked and randomly changed volume, like he had not spoken in a long time.

"You're near Kanavan, mister."

"Kanavan," the man mouthed. He desperately tried to move then, but he stayed firmly on the ground, as if he forgotten how to use his limbs. The more Harpe thought about it, it seemed like the man forgot a lot of things. Harpe was about to ask if he forgot a lot when the man shakily asked, "How - the Five Year War... How long has it been?"

Harpe scrunched his eyes shut as he tried to remember anything about a Five Year War. Eventually shaking his head, he replied, "I don't know, mister."

"How old are you?"

Harpe held up six fingers.

The man was silent before whispering, "This has never happened... could it be...? No, it couldn't. There's no way. But it feels so real..."

Harpe slowly edged away from the rambling man trying to convince and dissuade himself at the same time. He ran back to his worried trainer and asked if he could go get someone. Receiving reluctant permission and a stern scolding about running off, the child ran towards the magnificent city which he called home. _I guess I'll get Mother to help me. The man was calling her name, after all._

* * *

_Was this what was called a lucid dream?_

The man looked around the bedroom where he rested, in wonder that he still had not yet awoken to the darkness. This was the longest dream that he had ever been in, so long that he had to stomp the feeling of hope that started bubbling in his heart. He had fallen prey to hope before, and the abyss where he laid in trampled it with impunity. Since then, he had stopped hoping.

It still felt so real.

The man woke up in the middle of a grassy field surrounded by forest to see a vibrant display of colors. In an effort, he tried to stand, but he had not felt or used his muscles in so long that it took all his strength just to sit up. Regardless, he looked around at the natural beauty that was kept from him for so long. Every sensation came back to him; he could see, hear, taste, smell, and touch again. He felt his heart beat and his lungs take in air. He felt hunger, thirst, and exhaustion.

It was a glorious feeling. Had not the boy made known his presence, the man would have been content to sit there forever.

The man had not seen or heard another human in so long; even in his dreams, people were silent, fuzzy images that moved to and fro. When the lad asked his question, the surprising sound caused him to flinch. It... sounded wonderful.

It was weird, though, when the kid answered his questions. Never in his dreams did he interact with another; never was he asked questions. He began mumbling, trying to convince himself that this was only a very lucid dream, barely noting that the boy left. Soon, he figured as he watched the boy leave, the dream would be over, and he would again wake up in the dark.

The boy came back, a woman, likely his mother, following him. She looked so much like the red-haired girl in his dreams, the man convinced himself then that it was indeed one. With her long, flowing red hair, fair skin, and ruby eyes full of surprise and worry, she looked exactly like the adult version of the girl in his dreams. He had never had a dream of the future...

They lifted and carried him through a great city, one that the man figured was Kanavan, towards the castle. This Kanavan looked nothing like the one in his dreams, though. It was as if it was rebuilt in a far grander and more magnificent scale befitting the gods. In the city center was twelve statues of young men and women, a bronze plaque underneath them engraved with their name and title.

The one that caught his eye was engraved, _Elesis Sieghart, Savior of Bermesiah._

_Elesis..._ He finally knew where he got the word, but what importance was this person to him?

By the time the woman and child dragged him to a lavish bedroom, he had stopped wondering. _It's only a figment of my imagination. Soon, the dream will end, and all this will be pointless. _

That had been, according to the calendar, two weeks ago.

The woman would come in daily to check up on him, to feed him and to help him wash. Most of the time, she was accompanied by the child or another blue-haired man, both of which she treated with much affection and love. _They are most likely a family, _the man thought. Sometimes, he would get a few random strangers in his room, either to try to "cure" him or to ask questions. He did not see the point in answering the figments of his imagination, so he remained silent. Aside from the small conversation with the boy, he had remained silent, determined to not get used to this... extremely lucid dream.

He caught himself hoping more than once now, and the man did everything he could to stop it. He refused to be devastated again by the knowledge that he indulged in nothing but a fantasy. If anything, this dream was cruel; why would he not wake up? He knew it had to end, so why prolong it? Why make him suffer all the more when the illusion faded and forced him to realize he was trapped forever?

As time dragged on, he started to question his self-imposed hopelessness. Perhaps... he did escape. Perhaps this was indeed the world that he left so long ago. On the woman's next visit, the man asked her, "How long ago was the Five Year War?"

The woman started and looked at him in surprise; he had never spoken till now, not to her or Harpe or any of her friends who came to visit. Uncertainly, she replied, " Ten years ago."

A wave of vertigo washed over him. Only ten years? It felt like a century, a millenia, even an eternity there. This had to be a dream...

"I see." The man refused to speak anymore.

When the woman, with eyes of renewed concern, left, the man smiled faintly. Regardless of the fact that this was a dream, it was strangely comforting. He had all his senses back and it as if he was back in his old world. People were here, ones he could see and talk to, and they always came back. Even if it was a dream, it felt as close to life as he had ever felt.

He glanced at a photo on a nearby bookshelf. To his surprise, he saw himself preserved in time, standing and smiling with his hand upon the red-haired girl's shoulder. Perhaps... this was not so bad.

He felt ready to hope again. He still thought this dream would end soon but... maybe, given enough time and enough of these dreams, he would feel ready to believe for the better.

* * *

**End**


End file.
